The Curtain Rises
by difficile
Summary: Vaan, kidnapped by the Empire as the party reaches Archades, is victim to Draklor's newest nethicite experiments. When the party is forced to face a possessed Vaan with Venat as his guard, how will they combat their new enemy? Balthier/Vaan, in-game.
1. Act I, Scene I

**_A/n: After avoiding this for a good three years, I've decided to revamp these pointless chapters... slowly, of course, since I am the worst at updating. This chapter has been revamped. Two and three are still awful._**

**_I dont own the rights of Final Fantasy XII._**

**__**

Information on The Curtain Rises:

Romance/Action/Adventure - BalthierxVaan (eventually!)

Extended Summary: Nearing the long-awaited journey to Arcadia, the party awakes one morning to find Balthier gone – no forewarning, no trace of where he went off to, or even why he did this. Perplexed, each member splits up across Ivalice to find him. A determined young blond succeeds in doing so, finding the pirate in a more than compromising situation. This reuniting triggers the presence of new enemies and even newer conflicts. Why does Ba'Gamnan and his crew have nethicite-powered weapons? Why would Draklor team up with bounty hunters? What are the new top-secret experiments going on in Archadia having to do with the mixture of both deifacted _and_ artificial nethicite? What does Doctor Cid want with _Vaan_, of all people? …And why does Balthier suddenly hold such a fondness for the boy?

( what is stated in the summary WILL happen. When? Tch, like I know. )

* * *

The sun favored no specific patch of gold lining the Estersand that afternoon, instead bathing the expanse of sand in familiar rays welcomed by a child of the desert but not a man of the sky; at least, that was the conclusion Vaan came to when he saw Balthier's face openly wearing the heavy burden of displeasure. The sand was no different than the grass or the walkways of Rabanastre to Vaan, for the desert was his home and carried him like any other creature looming about the heated grains of yellow. However, the same could not be said for Balthier. The pirate's steps were weighted and slow, as if each press of weight only dragged him backwards instead of propelling him on, and it was all Vaan could do all day to keep himself from laughing as they trekked alone on a hunt.

"Keep that smug smile up and you can quickly bid aideu to any hopes of learning to fly an airship," Balthier's voice sliced through Vaan's musings, and the Dalmascan's smile faded only the slightest; instead of smugness, the thin line of his lip wore an amusement of the cautious sort.

"I'm not smiling _at_ you. I'm smiling _with_ you," Vaan replied, absently eyeing a wayward pack of cockatrices trudging with forked feet throughout the desert. Even the overgrown, plump chickens had more coordination in the desert than Balthier did – Vaan decided not to share such an observation, however.

Balthier's intolerance to sarcasm was apparent in the darkened crease lining his brow. He averted his gaze forward, and Vaan felt the chill vibes from the other just by that one action. Rebuffed, Vaan quickened his pace forward and watched the visions ahead dance before him in the heat of the sun. Wavering slightly ahead was a shimmer of green scales, and Vaan's eyes sparkled. He paused and turned, facing Balthier. _Archadians aren't meant for the deserts_, Vaan noted, and managed to subdue his grin.

"I think it might be ahead – the petitioner said it was around here," Vaan stated, and licked his chapped lips for the umpteenth time as he pointed ahead. Balthier trudged to a halt beside Vaan and sighed dryly.

"Dear Shemhazai, it surely better be."

Vaan rolled his eyes – and Penelo thought _he_ was a complainer. _Yeah, spend a few hours alone with Balthier in the desert, Pen, and then we'll see._ "So c'mon, then. It's not gonna kill itself," Vaan stated matter-of-factly, as if that would do anything to quell Balthier's vexation, motioning with a flick of his head forward. His feet sank only slightly in the sand, as if he knew the desert's secret, and along the smooth dunes Vaan ran. His dagger, synthesized by the talented hands of a Bangaa in the Muthru Bazaar, was gripped tightly in the confines of Vaan's fist – this hunt was _all his_.

Mirages danced ahead in the Estersand's afternoon sun; orange fur glinted to the west, a pack of Worgens scenting crevices of the cliff. But feathers, fur, and small footprints were not of interest to Vaan. He was sure that what he saw flickering ahead was the form of the described mark petitioned by a Lowtowner. "Green scales, thick hide, and a clawing shadow that warded off any surrounding fiends" was all that could be described of the mark; from what Vaan could gather, he guessed it was some type of Saurian.

His suspicions were confirmed true as Vaan's vision focused on what was, indeed, green scales and a clawing shadow. Several rolling dunes away, Vaan stopped and gaped openly at the trudging mark. "That," he started, and looked back at Balthier, "is one big Saurian."

Balthier's reply came in that of a miffed sigh. "And I," the pirate countered, arching a brow towards Vaan, "am going to suffer heatstroke if this follow continues any longer. This ends now."

Balthier was the first to aim ahead that day, into the distance. Vaan followed suit of the bullet, towards the mark; typically, unaware of the pair of Archadian eyes trained on his form.

_._

There was just something liberating to Vaan about standing above a carcass twenty-times the size of a hume, especially knowing that he himself felled the beast. The Estersand Saurian, – a long feared tyrant which appeared rarely from a secluded path of the desert, down and out. There were speckles of red adorning the sands; whether some once belonged to Vaan or the Saurian, he couldn't tell. But one thing was for certain – the mark was defeated. A horrifying stench of gore and burning flesh filled a portion of the desert, and Balthier clicked on the safety of his Fomalhaut on finding that, indeed, the long-feared beast would certainly not be rising upon the Estersand again.

Vaan stood above his victim with a wide smile stretching the seams of his lips. "How do you like _that_?" he asked with a grin toward the rugged sky pirate. Balthier, who had stayed many yards back during the heat of the fight, tucked a half-drunk potion in his pouch. Typically, the pirate was unscathed by any attacks the Saurian launched, whether it was of its maw or monolithic tail; if Vaan didn't possess the agility of a born and bred Rabanastran thief, he, too, would be down and out on the desert sands.

"I can't say I do, actually; it was quite hideous," Balthier replied, and glanced over at Vaan with nothing short of a catlike grin. Vaan rolled his eyes.

"I meant—"

"I know very well what you meant. You weren't too bad, for a child your age."

Not even the heat of the Estersand could hold a candle to the warmth that rose furiously to Vaan's cheeks at the comment. A scowl replacing his beaming smile, Vaan crossed his arms and quirked a thin blonde brow as a question crossed his mind.

"What do you mean, 'not bad'? And I _know_ you just didn't call me a kid. I took it down in less than six strikes – You're the one who backed off, Balthier," Vaan retorted, the pirate's name rolling from Vaan's lips like sour wine.

Balthier replied to Vaan's comment with his classic chuckle, only provoking the blond to continue with his somewhat prepared rant sizzling through his mind. Again, Vaan turned back to the Saurian's body and spat on it vehemently. "If you think you're so incredible, Balthier—"

A chorus of low growls interrupted the anticipated argument between thief and pirate, and immediately they whipped around to find several Worgens baring their fangs, snarling furiously. Many pairs of soulless, hungry eyes glittered in the sunlight and fixated on the armed pair, a trace of profound curiosity quickly diminished by the overpowering bloodlust running through their veins. The larger of the many Worgens – there were at least four – stepped forward with thick red fur standing on its ends. Vaan watched the Alpha scent precautiously; its body became taut.

"The scent of the Saurian…" Vaan muttered, feeling transfixed by yellow eyes. Balthier cursed.

"I see we have fans," Balthier smirked, clicking off the safety of his gun. "Make this quick, Vaan."

That did nothing to quell Vaan's frazzled nerves as he charged. The Worgens mimicked Vaan, and soon the blond found himself across from two wolf-hybrids; the others charged towards Balthier.

The alpha swung towards Vaan with a snarl, opening his huge jaws like a cave and attempting to sink his teeth into the foolish Hume that had kept his pack from feeding. Quickly Vaan reacted, lifting his shield up to block the attack while using his right hand to surge the Danjuro upward in a critical cut from the left side of its neck to its right jaw. The alpha's pained screech echoed through the Estersand, blood speckling his flaxen hair, and Vaan whipped his head over to see how Balthier was keeping up.

_Un_surprisingly, Balthier was completely fine. The distance he was standing at to aim was at a safe enough area to easily shoot down the more inferior of the pack, and thanks to the Fomalhault's ammunition, it easily negated any defenses the Worgens had. Balthier closed one eyes and pursed his lips as he pulled the trigger, smoke instantly rising from the barrel as the bullet whizzed by and lodged itself into a Worgen's muzzle. It wasn't long until the Beta backed off and retreated, dragging its left flank and tail. Vaan had quickly disposed of the Alpha with a final slash of the Danjuro. It fell a few feet from Vaan after the devastating blow, leaving a messy trail of scattered sand and fur across the expanse.

_Is it over?_ Vaan thought, his form slumped over slightly. _No, there were four – where is the last?_ A thin veil of sweat covered his face and his chapped lips parted with the sharp intakes of breath he took; Alphas always were the most persistent. Faintly he could hear something behind him – another growl. As fast as he could, Vaan turned. He was too late.

A flash of red was all he saw, followed by the ear-piercing sound of a gunshot.

He could have sworn he heard Balthier calling his name amidst the dizziness, the darkness, but the silence of rest was somehow far more appealing.


	2. Act I, Scene II

_For each of us is created to die/ and within me I know/ I was born to fly._

"Foolish young boy. I knew it was too much for him. But, as stubborn as he is, he refused to listen."

_I hear voices._

"But will he be all right, Balthier? It was just a Worgen, after all. Nothing he couldn't handle…"

_Worried voices. Penelo?_

"In time the wound will heal; the attack merely took him off guard. If it wasn't for the leading man's _brilliant_ performance, your dear friend here would be no better off than the Saurian.."

_Balthier…_

_What happened?_

"But you finished off the mark, correct?"

_Basch?_

"Indeed. It was far easier than the petitioner made it out to be, the delusional old man."

Vaan stirred slightly on a poorly made makeshift bed, his once placid body turning tense as he rolled onto the bandaged wound on his upper right arm. His eyes remained closed, but all of his other senses were reeling on overdrive. Aside from the voices he had heard – hopefully from his comrades as he thought – Vaan could feel a slight breeze and hear more sounds of the outside world. It sounded much like the bustling city of Rabanastre, and slowly the realization sank in that he was resting in Migelo's Sundries, a place where he and Penelo usually slept every night before the dramatic change of their lives occurred.

He parted his lips and let out a groan as he strained to sit up, and reluctantly he cracked his eyes open. Sleep still fogged his vision, making images swim dizzily before him, but he could faintly make out the wavering form of Basch, Balthier, and Penelo.

"…Vaan?" he heard Penelo's worried, almost maternal voice. Vaan replied with another groan as he rubbed his eyes.

"What happened?" The blond managed to mutter, scanning the storage room of Migelo's Sundries that was once so familiar to him. Two cots, one he was on and another one in the far corner, were where he and Penelo slept every night. The fond memories made Vaan smile faintly; it had been such a long time since he'd taken the time to stop and visit old places of the past.

"The Worgen attacked you on the Estersand. Best not stand around like so in the midst of battle; it's rather unbecoming," Balthier replied, putting in his two cents. He motioned to Vaan's bandaged wound and using his thumb to trace a jagged cut on the side of the younger boy's face. Vaan's brow furrowed and he shied away from the none-too-gentle touch across the tender wound.

"Oh," was his reply, meager and tinged with embarassment. How could he have let such a weak monster take him off guard? And if that wasn't enough, it was right in front of Balthier's face. Mortification filled Vaan's being and he bit his lower lip before filling the silence with a question. "…Well what about the Saurian? Did we get the bounty?"

Balthier let out another chuckle and patted his left pocket, the refreshing sound of Gil ringing throughout the room. "Taken care of."

Without another word, Vaan reached out and held his palm open expectantly. More than amused now, Balthier gave Vaan a lopsided grin. "As soon as you're well enough to count, we'll discuss this," he offered, and Vaan sat up straight with his jaw set.

"I don't think so."

"Ah, then to save you the trouble I shall just keep it for myself, hm? I think we could all agree it'd be best that way."

"_Balthier._"

Vaan looked incredulously at the older male in front of him, then over at Penelo and Basch, who, both being very wise, had kept their mouth shut through the ordeal. With a furrowed brow, Vaan turned back to Balthier. "This isn't funny. You know well off that I did everything myself."

But of course, there was no way the noble sky pirate would ever admit to that, and coming across this realization, Vaan's sighed frustratingly. His head still throbbed and in all honest, he hadn't the energy to argue with Balthier…not yet, anyhow. Silence stretched between the four again, Vaan's gaze anywhere but Balthier; he could feel that pair of eyes trained on him.

"… We should be catching up with her Highness and Fran by now," Basch stated, his voice rough but quiet as usual. "Their mark was in the Ozmone Plain, which is quite a walk from here. If we hope to get to the camp by sundown, we should head off now," the brandished knight stated, giving Vaan a look of paternal understanding that only seemed to frazzle the boy more. With a peeved expression and no commentary of his own, Vaan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

He wiggled his fingers on his right hand, looking at them to make sure everything was all right with those joints, and then rolled his shoulder. There was a small, numbing ache that was far from comfortable by any means, but it certainly was something Vaan could learn to ignore for the time being. He'd been through much worse, after all, and was in no position to be complaining.

"Fine. Let's go then," he muttered. The glare never left his face as he walked briskly past Balthier. Penelo followed behind, looking back at Balthier as a silent apology for her friend's behavior before hurrying up the basement stairs and into the actual shop.

"Vaan?" she asked hesitantly.

"What." His voice was stiff and irritated; Penelo could tell he was still sore over the afternoon's happenings, and she approached Vaan, placing her hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't have to go with us."

Vaan whipped around and looked at Penelo with an expression that he recently gave Balthier. "I don't think so. We're heading to Archadia now, Penelo. Do you realize how far we've gone since the beginning? A Worgen attack isn't going to make me stay here."

Over the years of knowing each other, Penelo found it completely fruitless to try and change her dogged best friend's mind. He was strong-willed and stubborn; nothing was going to change that. She sighed and nodded her head.

"Just be careful, would you? I'd hate to have to tell Filo and the others you were murdered by a savage Giza Hare or something," she jested, and Vaan's previous frown was replaced by a crooked smile as he nudged Penelo.

"Are you two ready?" Basch's voice reached their ears, and the two orphans followed the others out of the Sundries shop.

The group of four made it through the pouring Giza Plains with ease. Recently Ashe, Vaan, Balthier, Fran, Basch and Penelo had all decided on splitting into pairs and setting off on hunts to train for the trip to the Empire. Usually Fran and Balthier would have been paired together, but Ashe had brought up the factor that many things may split everyone up on trip to the capital, and training with others they were not familiar being with was a safe option. So with that, Fran had paired with Ashe, Balthier with Vaan, and Penelo with Basch.

They all walked in silence through the plains, effortlessly fending off the small "predators" that dare stepped in their way. Vaan seemed to be fine, enjoying immensely the contrast in weather and basking in the ice-cold droplets. A few moments passed before he broke the silence, siding with Penelo as their feet slushed through the moist ground.

"How'd your hunt go, Pen?" he asked, his voice softer and less stressed than before; Penelo noted this silently and offered Vaan a smile.

"It went well. But I have to admit, it was... kind of scary." she explained, earning a grin and a chuckle from Vaan.

"It was some kind of Nightmare in the Zertinan Caverns." Basch joined in, leaving Balthier up front to lead, "It wasn't easy, but Penelo held up just fine."

The conversation continued to pass the time, and eventually they reached the ravine leading to the Ozmone Plains. Vaan stopped in front of the prodigious rocks for a moment, looking up into the sky; he always loved the rain, always loved the sky. Even when the clouds covered the view of the endless heavens, Vaan still never ceased to be amazed by the infinity of it all. Penelo noticed his pause and stopped, too, sitting down on a nearby rock by the overflowing Giza River.

Balthier, who had been uncharacteristically silent ever since leaving Rabanastre, leaned against the entrance to the ravine, somewhat sheltered from the pouring rain. Ideas of what waited for him at the capital plagued his hopes and thoughts. He ran his hand through his soaking wet locks, letting out a sigh.

_Sooner or later they will find out; can't hide it from this motley crew, after all. When we get to the capital, it will bring all of us closer to what we need, yet what I dread the most._

Balthier shook his head to rid of the thoughts, and found himself looking around the premise and spotting Vaan, whose head was slightly tilted up towards the sky as stray raindrops tumbled down his face; briefly Balthier envied the lighthearted nature of the boy before speaking through the silence.

"We carry on now, if you please. If we linger out here like perfect fools any longer, I'm opt to leaving you all," he barked, turning on his heel and pressing onwards.

There were no replies to the man's statement and each member conceded to his suggestion, however rude it was executed. Mud stuck to the soles of their shoes through the ravine, and once again the group fell into silence. Water trickled at a slow pace down the jagged rocks, and a few rumbles of thunder echoed through the plains when they stepped out from the dark.

"Early, I see," a uniquely accented voice reached the ears of the four, and they turned to find Fran and Ashe waiting for them by a small camp they had set up by the ravine.

"How fares the hunts?" Ashe asked, standing from where she sat under a small canopy.

"It was okay," Vaan answered first, shooting Balthier a look. "How about yours?"

"A mutant species of Mesminir, I gathered; it was far too large for the common size," Fran spoke up while sharpening the end points of her arrows on a nearby stone. "It seemed... unnatural."

"Perhaps it was an experiment from the Draklor Laboratories?" Ashe wondered aloud as the party took refuge under the canopy from the rain. Baltheir shook his head as he indulged himself in cleaning his shirtcuffs.

"Draklor does _not_ experiment of the beasts of Ivalice; it would be a waste of time for _Doctor Cid _to pursue anything other than nethicite." Balthier explained, voice laced with hostile bitterness. Penelo shrugged from her spot beside Vaan, contemplating the information.

"Maybe because of the war, they're experimenting with new beasts? Chocobos probably can't hold up too well battle as well as some other beasts can," she contributed, and Balthier said nothing to this as he stared off into the misty rain.

Several attempts were made by Vaan to re-ignite a dying fire, though each time it resulted in only a weak crackle before it dispersed into smoke. The wood was soaking wet, and Fran and Ashe's magick were still replenishing from their recent battle with the Mesminir. But with the combined help of Penelo, the party's main magick user, the two Rabanastran orphans soon had a blazing fire crackling and bathing everyone in a welcomed glow.

"We set off for the capital first thing tomorrow, then," Ashe stated sullenly, and Basch nodded once beside his princess.

"If we keep on track, we will surely arrive in two suns," the Ronsenburg added, and the party's silence signaled their mutual agreement.

Vaan sat beside Penelo, remaining quiet like the rest. His arm still throbbed and pulsed with pain from the Worgen attack earlier that day in the Estersand, though, and he had a look of poorly disguised discomfort on his face as it throbbed through the gauze wrapped around it. He reminisced on the day's events from the Estersand to Rabanastre, and now to Ozmone Plains, realizing what might have become of him if it wasn't for Balthier.

_I would have ended up like that Wild Saurian if it wasn't for him, as much as I hate to admit it, _Vaan pondered. His eyes caught sight of said sky pirate, and immediately he noticed a change in Balthier's usually animated and somewhat lively features. Ever since leaving Rabanastre for the Capital, little by little did Vaan notice a change in Balthier's demeanor and posture. At first, Vaan ignored it, for he was angry at the sky pirate for not sharing the fair amount of loot from the hunt. But now, as Vaan really studied him, he noticed that it was not something that should be brushed aside. Usually the brunet would participate in a conversation when involving hunts and such, but he did not do so on the way to Ozmone from Giza. Uncharacteristically quiet, he was.

Vaan narrowed his eyes across the fire at the hunched male, head tilted to the side as he studied Balthier. The pirate's eyes were closed and his chin was down, allowing bangs to flop carelessly in front of his face, for the rain had broken through the gel that spiked his rich brown hair. Fran sat adjacent to him; she was always unreadable, so it was impossible to tell if she, too, noticed the change. But she was a wise creature, without a doubt the most intelligent Vaan had ever known, and so there was no doubt in his mind that Balthier's Viera companion knew of the sudden contrast.

A long stretch of silence spread its way over the canopy, and eventually a deep sleep found each warrior, all except one frazzled, restless sky pirate.

Nightmares plagued his futile attempts to sleep. He tried to pacify himself by thinking of other things – anything, really, to stray his thoughts from his steadily-increasing paranoia. But no matter what he thought of, no matter what peaceful images he conjured , only one word echoed in his mind.

_FFamran._

_Ffamran..._

_Ffamran..._

He tossed and turned on the makeshift cot, eyes closed shut tightly. His thoughts of sweet freedom was doused as cruel realization slapped him in the face of what awaited him at the capital, at Draklor.

_I am sick of living my life as a lie. This... This is not what I wanted. What the bloody hell possessed me to join this group? Is it fate? Is it the way of the Gods to bring me back to him, to Cid?_

Brown eyes shot open as a phrase Fran spoke of echoed in his mind.  
_  
"You're a sky pirate, aren't you? Then fly. That is what you do."_

And that was what Ffamran Mid Bunansa did. When Ashe, Penelo, Basch, Vaan and Fran awoke, they found the sky pirate long gone, a wrinkled cot the only item that remained.

* * *

Poem is _Impressions of a Pilot_ by Gary Claud Stoker.


	3. Act I, Scene III

_"How can life grant us boon of living, compensate  
For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate  
Unless we dare The soul's dominion?"_

The once solemn atmosphere of Ozmone Plains eventually gave way to morning as the sun stretched its blood-red fingers across the misty horizon. Across the vast field, one by one, beasts began to emerge from their nightly refuge and pace their territory – all of them wisely staying a safe distance from the small canopy by the connecting ravine of Ozmone and Giza. Humes were not welcome in the land by any beast with half an ounce of instinct, and if provoked in the least bit, any Hume would understand that message.

And just as dawn became more apparent to the land beneath the sky, so did the realization that Balthier would not be returning to camp.

Vaan, the only one awake, had drawn that conclusion after waiting countless hours for a certain sky pirate to return to his bedraggled sheets under the canopy. After all, the teen suffered from insomnia, and so when awaking quite early in the morning and finding a Balthier-less cot, the blonde boy found nothing better to do than wait – for sleeping was only a waste of time and effort for Vaan.

At first, on waking, Vaan had considered searching for Balthier. After all, it was the dead of night in Ozmone, and although no monsters were visible by the naked eye, Vaan knew that certain beasts enjoyed roaming the premises of the Plains for an easy prey. But after a few moments of mental debating, Vaan decided to recline by the dying campfire and stall for dawn while waiting for Balthier. Minutes turned to hours, growing into a ridiculous amount of time for one person to be gone from camp. And just as the morning came, Vaan had realized that… Balthier would not be returning.

He closed his blue eyes briefly, furrowing his blonde brow in frustration. 'I should have gone to look for him. I mean… I thought he could handle it on his own, whatever he was doing. What happened to him? Where is he?'

Far too many scenarios played off in Vaan's mind, guilt and (surprisingly) worry eating at his heart. But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a familiar Vieran voice.

"I do not think he will be returning," Fran's voice reached Vaan's ears and he whipped his head to the side, his expression portraying true confusion. The slender Viera sat up from her semi-relaxed position and she shook her head.

"I don't understand, Fran. Y-you knew?"

"I am not one to waste time on much sleep. Viera are rather nocturnal creatures. The mist, also, has been keeping me up more often as well."

Vaan rubbed his arm absentmindedly as the dawn's wind blew by the pair. "What did you see?"

"I saw Balthier leave not long after I came to the realization of what he had done," she explained.

"Which is?"

Quietly, Fran turned and stepped out from the canopy, Vaan in tow. Her long silver locks swayed in the morning breeze and briefly she shut her crimson eyes as she answered the curious boy.

"I believe Balthier has fled."

Vaan acted upon emotion. "Fled?! But this is _Balthier_. The sky pirate."

"Your point?"A question and small chuckle met Vaan's ears and he crossed his arms, looking up at the enigmatic Viera with a questioning look plastered on his features. He waited a moment before Fran chose to elaborate.

"Not all sky pirates are fearless as you come to assume. You must think logically – to journey the sky and purposely seclude yourself from everything below… There must be something to run from down there that fuels you to keep yourself above, emancipated from the prisons underneath."

After a few minutes of mentally digesting the words Vaan had heard, he nodded his head slowly. Truly, he had never thought of that before – yet it made so much sense. How could he have not ever taken that into consideration before was beyond his own comprehension, but he was still unsatisfied with Fran's answer.

"Tell me why, though. What is Balthier afraid of? I thought…. I always thought…"

"He was someone to look up to?"

Vaan swallowed hard and cast his gaze at the misty blades of swaying grass beneath him, hiding his expression with blonde bangs. So perhaps it was true. After all, Balthier was the kind of person Vaan always wanted to be; strong, cunning, skilled, and a sky pirate. Deep down, through the almost sibling-like arguments they had on a regular basis, Vaan looked up to Balthier very much.

"…Where is he?" Vaan's circumlocution of the Fran's assumption made the Viera suspicious, but she shrugged nonetheless.

"I am afraid I do not know."

"What are we gonna do now?"

"You ask many questions, and you also act as though Balthier's absence will hinder us in our quest."

Vexed by these simple replies, Vaan looked up at Fran. "_What are you saying_? How can you be so calm about this?! Balthier was your partner."

"We all must move on," Fran replied solemly, "no matter how difficult it may be. Eventually, our paths must come to a division in this road of freedom. He made his own decision."

A veil of silence fell over the two, Vaan absentmindedly digging his heel into the rich soil beneath the soles of his shoes as he pondered on the words of Fran.

"…So, this is it? Are you just going to give up?"

"On what are you referring?"

Vaan groaned, kicking a stray rock in the midst of his frustration. "Are you never going to look for him? Do you just forget everyone you've encountered who leaves you?"

There was no reply to Vaan's interrogation, and he watched in silence as Fran's eyes lifted toward the sky. The look on her face was a solemn one, an expression portraying neither anger nor hurt – contemplative. Vaan, growing bored with the conversation every passing second, let out another irritated sigh and turned to head back to the tent. Fran's ears pricked as she heard the blond teen mumble something, and she chuckled quietly into the wind.

"I don't think you will," she replied to the otherwise unheard comment, causing the surprised teen to whip around.

"You heard me?"

"Do you think these ears are for attracting mates?" she practically smirked, still keeping her face turned upwards. Gracefully she turned and faced the bewildered boy, shaking her head slightly. "You said you'd look for him yourself, did you not?"

Vaan fish-mouthed for a moment before replying. "Yeah."

"One person from our party is bad enough. Another one gone will only hinder us more. This is an unwise choice."

"Why don't you just come with me?" Vaan practically shouted, causing the rest of the party to arouse from their slumber. Penelo's voice came first.

"Vaan… What are you doing…?" his old companion muttered, stepping out from the canopy and rubbing her eyes. Vaan turned to Penelo, practically fuming.

"Balthier is missing, and I'm gonna look for him whether I go by myself or not."

Blinking, Basch and Ashe soon joined the conversation.

"What do you mean, missing?" Ashe hissed, her austere expression never faltering.

Fran let out a tiny sigh, taking a few steps toward the newly formed group. "It does not need elaborating, for it is impossible to do so. Balthier is gone."

Basch shook his head. "Just… gone? Do you think he got stranded on the Plains?"

"Negative," Fran replied, "He has fled."

A chorus of three blurted the same word at once: "What?"

"His motives are unclear, and I believe that we should continue our journey to Arcadia. Perhaps we will meet him there; If you would just take my word into consideration for a moment, we are more likely to get organized and back on track," Fran explained calmly.

The rest of the party seemed most averse to comply, and Vaan certainly portrayed this by defying Fran again. He stood up straight and shook his head fiercely, clenched fingers digging into tanned hands. "I'm looking for him - we should _all_look for him. Split up and search. Archadia can wait," Vaan almost shouted, ignoring the severe look he received from the princess. Fran merely stared down at Vaan and blinked.

"Enlighten me on how you can possibly fathom where to find Balthier, and perhaps I will consider it," she challenged, and Vaan found himself at a loss for words. It was that moment when Penelo spoke again, her voice breaking through the austere mood with a tone of hope and ambition.

"There isn't any harm in searching... We need Balthier. If we all split up like Vaan said, we're bound to find him."

"He left early this morn, correct? How far could he have gotten by foot in just a few hours?" Ashe inquired, and the rest of the party, save for Fran, nodded. Vaan's eyes lit up and he put his hands on his hips almost triumphantly.

"Then it's settled. We should all split up now and look, and come back by sunset with news."

"Oh, so now you are taking the role of the leading man?" Fran retorted, and Vaan scratched the back of his head with a nervous grin, previous stature of confidence diminished. _Someone_had to be the leader, right? Fran and Vaan stared at each other for a moment, the elder Viera reading the thoughts running through Vaan's mind with ease. With another sigh, Fran nodded. "Leading _child_ or not, I will consent to this idea. Perhaps we will make some progress."

Vaan grinned slightly, pumping his fist in the air. "Then let's get started."

"Where should we start?" Penelo wondered aloud, standing by her friend. Vaan glanced at her and shrugged.

"I was thinking I'd look around the Westersand."

Ashe stepped up to the other two teens. "Basch and I will scour the Plains and Jahara."

Penelo held her hands behind her back, looking down at the ground. She would have liked to go with Vaan, but it was easily read in his eyes that he was eager to take this challenge alone. Looking over at Fran expectantly, Penelo waited for the Viera's input.

"I will go to the Henne Mines. Penelo, you may come as well." Fran added, nodding once in the girl's direction.

Quietly the group of five packed up their gear and set off, all vowing to meet by the entrance to Ozmone by sundown with news, and hopefully a russet-haired sky pirate. It was Vaan who made the most apparent haste at first, turning on his heels and sprinting northwards back to Rabanastre, where he could re-stock on supplies and head to the Westersand. The others eventually parted way, leaving Vaan the only one alone and in a completely opposite direction as everyone else.

The thought made adrenaline rush through his body. With pumping arms and sprinting legs, Vaan made his way quickly through the rains of Giza and towards Rabanastre, several possibilities running through his mind as well as concerns. He wanted answers.

He wanted the sky pirate back.

* * *

Poem excerpt is _Courage_ by Amelia Earheart.


	4. Act I, Scene IV

**_A/n: Please see my profile for extended author's notes and summary of this fic._**

* * *

_"At three times seven, I wexèd wild/And manhood led me to be bold/I thought myself no more a child/My own conceit it so me told."_

The Dalmasca Westersand never did hold the most soothing sunrises or sunsets, unlike its eastern sibling, which held a more homely aura. All around the sky was draining of color, signaling the end of another day; the air grew damp and warm as the fading circle of the sun began to sink behind a sea of thick clouds. Watching the sky with eyes as dull as the sunset itself, Vaan wiped a thin veil of sweat from his forehead. It had been three days since their search began – three full days…And nothing.

The Westersand, the mines, Jahara, Rabanastre, Ozmone, Giza, and the Estersand, all scoured by the dogged feet of a party of five in a matter of three days. And still, nothing. The Strahl was gone from the Rabanastre Aerodome – Penelo acquired this information when she searched through the familiar streets the other day. And because of the confidential regulations Rabanastre upheld, the information on the airship's whereabouts was kept from even the desperate ears of a makeshift search party.

Fran had not been pleased that the portable device used for tracking the Strahl seemed to be drained of all usage somehow, the device becoming nothing more than a nuisance with a loud frequency of static and an unharmonious screech. Despite various efforts to remedy the situation, the resourceful Viera could not figure out the problem with the mechanism and merely consented to the idea of one more day of searching before resuming their trek to Arcadia. Vaan mulled over these recent happenings with a frazzled mind, truly perplexed as to why Balthier would just_ run away_. It made no plausible sense, despite numerous attempts to find a legitimate reason to explain why he'd flee. Eyes narrowing at that one word, Vaan shook his head. It just didn't sound right, it just wasn't logical when placed in the same image as Balthier.

The chocobo adjacent to Vaan squawked impatiently as its temporary hume master neglected adjusting its reins, and the blond glared at the overgrown mound of golden feathers before fixing the problem. Albeit Vaan wasn't fond of chocobos, he found them helpful during his travels across Ivalice and in his search. Absentmindedly Vaan raked his fingers through the myriad of feathers adorning the creature as he stared off into the rolling hills of sand. Images danced in the distance from thick heat waves, making it difficult to focus on a selected spot. Vaan winced, tightening his grip on the reins of his chocobo as a sudden epiphany hit him: the Sandsea. He hadn't checked the Sandsea, of all places! _That was why the tracker isn't working; it's Jagd. Airships don't work around here – so if Balthier is around here with the Strahl, the tracker would be just as useless as skystones!_

Feeling refreshingly pleased with himself for stumbling upon such an idea, Vaan quickly mounted his chocobo, adjusted himself and the reins, and squeezed the creature's sides with his shoes. On cue the bird jumped to life with a low chirp, sprinting with natural grace across the sands and through the lengthening shadows of the rocky crevices lining the desert. Blurred images in the distance gave way to Vaan's nearing, and it pleased him to see the materializing vision of the rusted machinery and waves of sand. The Sandsea was relevantly flat, which would make searching much simpler despite the irritating Urutan-Yensa clans. This was Vaan's last resort, his last foolish hope to find the damned pirate and continue their journey to the Empire. A tan, calloused hand clenched around the spear in anticipation as the chocobo sprinted through the twin crevices leading to the Sandsea; he would find Balthier that day, Vaan was sure of it.

"_Woah, woah!_" Vaan barked at the chocobo as it suddenly reared, spotting a scurrying clan of Urutan-Yensa several yards away. Blue-gray eyes narrowed at the chocobo, whose breathing pattern became erratic and rough just by staring at the foreign fiends."Are you kidding me? They're not going to eat you," Vaan hissed in the chocobo's ear and the bird's eyes shifted across the expanse in anxiety; this wasn't going to be easy. With a begrudged look lining his face, Vaan steadied the reins and cautiously fished out a bundle of Gyshal Greens. "Take this and be happy, would'ja?" the teen muttered, handing the chocobo (whose previous fear of Urutan Yensa was forgotten with the newfound treat) its snack.

As his makeshift companion munched on the bitter stalks, Vaan eyed the clan of Yensa with apprehensiveness. An obtrusive bunch they were, indeed. Their tattered cloaks littered with grime and scales drifted aimlessly in the weak desert wind and it reminded Vaan of the flags of war. The way they moved seemed unearthly; they left no trace of where they were, for their feet barely skimmed the ground, as if they were on air.

Vaan continued to stare at the outlandish creatures, idly realizing how much he learned from his journey through Ivalice. The places he'd seen already, the fiends he fought that he never could have pictured even with his vibrant imagination…It was incredible, really, how such a far-fetched child's dream could turn into reality with one measly move. In all honesty, Vaan never thought anything like this would happen – traveling, _rebelling_ alongside a framed knight, presumably dead royalty, and two sky pirates. Well, _one_ now.

As Vaan's thoughts skimmed over the subject again, his eyes narrowed; he _had_ to find Balthier, he _would_ find Balthier. There was no forewarning, no hint of any sort that the sky pirate was going to just disappear one morning without a word. Was he even intending to come back?

Fran's words from two days ago echoed in Vaan's mind. _"To journey the sky and purposely seclude yourself from everything below… We all have something to run from."_

Vaan's mind was somewhere else other than the wavering images of the Urutan-Yensas. His eyes glazed over as he registered the words to their full extent. _Something to run from… What is this _something_? Fran knows – I know she does. But she'd never tell me. Even though, now, it's pretty much everyone's business,_ Vaan pondered, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. Balthier never seemed like the type to run away from his problems (whatever they were), yet that idea could be equally negated with what Fran had said about sky pirates. Perhaps it was their nature to run away, though the thought of sky pirates being a culture of cowards made Vaan's blood boil with both misunderstanding and unbridled disappointment.

A tinge of guilt ate at Vaan and he regretted not taking the time to actually get to _know_ Balthier through their travels; maybe if he had, Vaan would understand the man's reasoning behind this whole ordeal. But there was always something that halted Vaan's advances whenever he did hold the initiative to have a one-on-one conversation, something that said _stop, you don't want to know, you're not good enough to know, he doesn't want you to know._

And every time Vaan _did_ stop, every time he'd turn on his heel and try to forget about being interested in the sky pirate. Now he regretted his caution from before, berated himself for overanalyzing a situation that, in its core, was just socializing. Vaan sighed, distraught. Sixth-senses always were bothersome. But there was no use crying over spilled Madhu – as simple as the saying was, it was a way of life for a war-victimized orphan of a conquered territory. What was done was done, or rather, what wasn't done wasn't. One this was decided, though – once Vaan found Balthier ("if"s were never taken into consideration by the headstrong teen) he'd make an effort to know him, even if he was made a fool of in the process. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't made a fool of himself in front of Balthier before…

The Urutan-Yensas soon took note of the hume and large, ornate bird and skittered away in paranoid haste, becoming lost and obscured in the misleading rays of the sun. Vaan's chocobo chirped once, pleased that its previous fear had gone away on its own accord, and the blond was thrown from his reminiscent stupor. "Let's go, then," Vaan muttered to the bird, nudging it and flicking the reins firmly. The two hurried along, Vaan swaying submissively as the chocobo's strides increased. Silver claws rapped against the rusted, slanted segway leading up to one of the many abandoned factories and once arriving at the circular pathway centered around a tower, Vaan ordered the chocobo to stop.

Vaan dismounted the bird with a grunt, his own metal shoes clanking against the firm steel beneath him, and he stopped once he reached the railings overlooking the symmetrical dunes and repetitious ruins sprouting from the rolling waves of sand. As far as his eyes could see, it was nothing but the same thing repeated; there was no airship in sight. With waning hope, Vaan searched below, eyes scanning the expanse to catch a glimpse of something – anything – that could re-ignite his optimism.

He did a double take as a wide, jagged mouth of rock caught his eye, and the blond Rabanastran smirked inwardly to himself. It was far, sprouting from crevices embedded into the Ogir-Yensa sandsea. He faintly recalled seeing it two months ago during his first trip there; Vossler had kept them strictly on track to Raithwall's tomb, though, and did not leave room for argument when it came to journeying off-track. Vaan turned and approached his chocobo, digging inside the contents of his bag attached to the saddle before grasping his worn and stained map. He unfurled the papyrus eagerly, adjusted it to the proper angle, and scanned the contents. Once finding his own location, Vaan traced a line towards the direction of the cave. _Zertinan Caverns,_ Vaan read, glancing back up at the mouth of the cave baring its stalactite fangs at him from afar. He pursed his full, chapped lips and nodded once in silent affirmation; he'd go there.

The sun's final rays of the day reached above the horizon and bathed the sandsea in a sickly glow. Shadows clawed at Vaan's feet and without another moment of consideration, the teen mounted the chocobo and headed towards the new location. His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of scouring a new place without the aid of anyone else, and faintly wondered how the rest of the group was fairing with their own searches.

However, those thoughts soon ebbed away as the view of the caverns became clearer, and Vaan tried to ignore the apprehensiveness involuntarily welling up inside him.

---

Zertinan Caverns was not promising.

However, the crevices in its seemingly endless labyrinth that snaked through the sands of the Ogir-Yensa proved to be a sufficient place for some desperately needed soul-searching and solitude. Balthier's feet ached from his trek across Giza and through the Westersand. There was no set destination embedded into his mind when he carried on hurriedly through the center of Ivalice – he just needed to run. Beads of sweat remained on the sky pirate's forehead and with another sigh Balthier wiped it off with his handkerchief already stained with dirt and grime.

He felt as though his life was being played out as some sort of dramatic irony; the Gods as his ever-watchful audience, observing with mirthful expressions as their flawed Hume creation struggled beneath the pounding desert sun to seek solace in a world filled with hectic trivialities. The russet-haired man let out a bitter bark of laughter as he stumbled upon this revelation, ignoring the jagged rocks prodding through his soiled velvet and leather vest. He always compared his life, if to a piece of performing art, to at least a heroic drama.

But now the Gods had changed this synopsis into some sort of cryptic comedy, one that Balthier was more than unwilling to comply mulled over these concepts, leaning his head back against the moist wall of Zertinan's forgotten labyrinth. Nostalgia brought more than just acrimony in its bittersweet presence. His thoughts floated about him aimlessly, and occasionally Balthier would grab one in particular and weave a thread of musings until tossing it back to the depths of his mind. Memories, none in particular, if even his own, flickered like fireflies in the dying twilight.

He didn't know what in Faram's name he was doing there, but the heavy weight of reality caused Balthier to accept the fact that, yes, he _would_ have to return. The young man traced random patterns on the moist, dark sand and he inhaled the scent of thick gunpowder; his Altair was fresh out of ammunition from a previous, unfriendly encounter with a herd of Nightmares and Flans, and his magick was slowly replenishing from pathetic attempts at healing himself.

_Quite a muddle I've gotten into, if I do say so myself,_ Balthier thought, eyes drooping. The sunlight was ebbing away, Balthier noted as he gazed solemnly at the fading spots of light dappling through the holes from the caverns' roof. What was this, the fourth day? No, maybe the third. It was mortifying how he'd already forgotten. On more than one occasion through those days, Balthier found himself feeling absolutely foolish for the impulsive moment of madness he submitted to. He had known for a while that the journey would eventually take them back to Draklor and his father, yet why now, at the peak of the voyage, did he chose to run?

Balthier shook his head for the umpteenth time that day; this was getting ridiculous. He had to go back to Ozmone, join his comrades again, and resume. Perhaps the group was still there, waiting. Or perhaps even searching, he thought briefly. They wouldn't very well continue to Arcadia – they needed him. He was the Leading Man. He had the airship. He had the knowledge of Arcadia and he knew exactly where to go. It would make no plausible sense if they continued without him.

And Balthier realized how sickening it was, the extent he took the people around him for granted. His upper lip curled, partially in self-pity and partially in disgust; it wasn't until he had intense human interaction that he realized how poor he was with it. Years spent by himself or with his trusted Viera partner did not leave much room for meddling in the affairs of other humes, and yet when he received the opportunity to merge back into a culture he had so purposely shunned in the past made him, he approached situations with deficiency despite his undaunted confidence. Self-realization truly was disheartening.

Balthier wondered what Fran thought of this whole turnout – she knew him well. She knew he'd come back…eventually. The princess? Ah, the mere thought of her expression made Balthier grin rather cruelly, for she too took people for granted. Captain Basch, he probably hadn't an inkling as to what was going on or what to do – despite the man's past as a hero, two years in inhumane seclusion turned him into a being more socially inept than Balthier himself (and he realized this with amused irony). Penelo and Vaan… the two street orphans from Rabanastre. Balthier was well aware they looked up to them, the poor fools. Probably the most concerned as well, the pirate thought, previous grin fading to a fond expression. He wondered mostly, though, on Vaan's reaction. That headstrong boy always thought the world of him (and who wouldn't?) – maybe because he was just a sky pirate; Balthier wasn't quite sure himself of exactly why Vaan looked up to him so. _He'd make a fine apprentice, now that I think on it_, Balthier suddenly contemplated in the growing darkness, giving in to a popular misconception of him and Vaan. _Once I journey back, perhaps I will give him a flying lesson or two… Before all of that nonsense, though… perhaps I should consider taking the initiative to go back._

Balthier looked back up to the cavern roof and sighed. It was getting darker fast, and he certainly was not opt to venturing out into the sandsea, through the Westersand, Rabanstre and Giza again at night. His gun was fresh out of ammunition, his potions were scarce, and his damned magick certainly was taking its sweet time in replenishing.

"In the morning. I shall set out in the morning," he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would affirm his decision.

"Aye, if ye ever see the light of morn again, _Balthier_," a distinctly accented voice snaked through the caverns and echoed off the walls, and the sky pirate took in a quick breath, his heart leaping and sinking simultaneously, as he realized his newfound company.

A company that would indeed keep its promise.

---

It was quickly decided, on entering Zertinan Caverns, that it was a location miles away from promising. First off it was dark, horribly so, and Vaan had to ease through without his chocobo after securing it to a rock outside the entrance. Vaan took cautious steps, his eyes blinking furiously as they adjusted to the darkness. His ears strained to hear sounds of anything, fiends or humes alike, but the only thing he could detect was the sound of his own breathing, hurried and dry. The blond swallowed thickly to himself and licked his chapped lips; he needed water. Casting a bitter gaze down to his empty waterskin, Vaan cursed himself silently. The Gods did not smile upon him that day.

Vaan squinted ahead, one hand blindly groping the intricate embeddings of the cavern wall for balance while the other clutched his spear. As he journeyed deeper, the temperature dropped notably and the desert-born boy shivered as stalactites hanging from the roof dripped moisture on his scalp. Too concentrated on seeing ahead, Vaan barely registered his hand coming across a sharp edge of the wall until he felt the sickening slickness of blood cover his armguard. He hissed to himself and paused in his venture, applying gentle pressure to ease the cold, stinging pain. It was as if the caverns had a life of their own…

Behind him Vaan felt a warmth, sudden and ominous, and he froze suddenly. Shadows danced upon the rock wall of Zertinan Caverns and suddenly the teen turned, spear ready, as he met face-to-face with a glowing Nightmare. The steed's head lowered, and for a moment Vaan felt as though he was suspended within oblivion, lost and entranced by an endless film of white covering the soulless eyes of the fiend. Cold sweat mingled with the blood on his hands as he shivered again; the Nightmare took a graceful step forward and without waiting for the result, Vaan took in a breath and lunged forward with violently passionate jab. He grunted, his own voice repeating through the caverns, and much to his chagrin he found he cut through nothing but thin air. The fiend was gone, leaving nothing but swirling, floating embers in its wake.

Perplexed and overrun with paranoia Vaan turned again. The Nightmare materialized in front of him, deathly ethereal and joyfully savage in its cunning nature, and without warning reared on its hind legs before shoving Vaan with sharp, heated hooves. A blinding spectrum of colors exploded in front of Vaan's periphery vision as he fell back, sweat and blood mingling with moist sand. Trembling, Vaan found proper balance through his overridden senses, readjusted his faltering grip on his spear, and propelled himself forward with a stab fueled by fool's hope. He felt the sharpened tip dig into thick, fleshy hide and soon the blood of the fiend mixed with his own. Despite the critical hit dealt to its ribcage, the Nightmare did not cry out. Rather, its hooves stomped furiously, desperately against the sand like a drunken dance before once again it dispersed into the thickening shadows.

Vaan was suddenly met with the sound of silence again, wavering and sadistically mysterious. His breath became labored and hoarse; albeit it was a quick battle with the Nightmare and it even fled with one blow, Vaan could still feel the molten silver gaze of the spirit's presence hovering over him like a persistent specter. Vaan's heart felt heavy against his chest and he stood stoic for several moments, on edge and furiously anticipating another ambush. Yet when no such thing came the blond straightened his posture and grimaced as he felt the blood from before drip to his fingers. His long-buried feeling of reluctance crawled up within his being again; perhaps this was a fools' errand indeed. One encounter with the cavern's fiends and already Vaan had taken a good hit and scare.

_No_, he thought, clenching his slick grip around his spear. _I can't stop now. I won't run away._

Vaan worried his lower lip and without further mental debate, he pressed onwards. Darkness and moisture furled about him as he precariously walked through Zertinan's depths. His knuckles rapped lightly and cautiously alongside the cavern walls, echoing before being swallowed by whatever distance lied ahead. Every once in a while the light from outside would leak through the tiny crevices of the roof, bathing patches of sand in a weak glow. Vaan followed these patches of light, curious, until he found himself surrounded by uncertainty; the kind only pitch black could bring with its constricting presence.

He paused, standing between what he could gather was a gnarling, rocky corridor only Hashmal could have concocted, and summoned up the energy to cast a fire spell to the tip of his spear, his spear that could bear the power of the elements if need be. A short radius surrounding Vaan came to life with a fiery light once the spell traveled to the spear's tip. A swelling feeling of reassurance beamed within Vaan like a beacon and he felt his previously diminished hope re-ignite again; he could press onwards without fear.

Vaan wasn't sure how long he continued to journey before his voice threw him from his musings. Only it wasn't his voice, he realized after a moment, and he ceased all movement and even breathing as he listened again. Yet what came after the weak echo was an equally weak cracking sound, signaling that these noises were nearby but behind the many twists and turns of the caverns. As quietly as Vaan could muster, he took a step forward; his fingers drummed eagerly against his spear-turned-torch held in front of him. He was getting closer, the sounds were repeating. _Cr-ack, cr-ack, cr-ack_. Occasionally a voice, muffled and quick, but other than that the same sounds met Vaan's ears over and over again until, eventually, they became louder…louder…closer…_right there_, right behind that wall of rock.

Vaan cursed his rotten luck; there was no possible way to determine how to get to the other side. He pointed his flaming spear left and right, noting two corridors stretching into darkness both ways before turning face-to-face with the wall again.

"…_ty_…_ead_…_irate_."

Vaan blinked, barely able to make out the jumbled cacophony of dialogue sprouting from the other side of the rock. Several familiar cracking noises came again before more words. Frustrated, Vaan pressed his ear against the rocks but to no avail; he had to find another way around. With a lowly growl akin to that of an angry Lobo, Vaan blindly chose the left pathway that curved subtly downwards and pressed on, feeling more confident as the sounds grew in clarity.

It wasn't until he passed a short, jagged crevice within the wall that Vaan stopped altogether, perplexed by an eerie, blue glow of light pouring from the confines. Vaan crouched on his knees to properly see through, wincing in pain as the light invaded his unadjusted irises. It took several moments, but Vaan could see through after easing his sight…

There were silhouettes, distorted and sized out of proportion and seized against the inside of this new area of the cavern Vaan was spying into. His eyes traveled from the giant shapes downwards to ground level and his ears strained as harsh dialogue met his ears. It was slurred, obnoxiously so, and laden with an accent Vaan was unfamiliar with, yet at the same time… He had heard it before. Somewhere. His eyes narrowed and he tried to focus on shapes and colors other than gray and blue before the shimmer of green scales caught his eye.

It didn't take long for Vaan to put two and two together, and his eyes widened notably; cold sweat ran down the length of his spine as the realization hit him of who else was occupying the caverns, one word that was spat throughout Ivalice like sour wine: _Ba'Gamnan_.

Ba'Gamnan was _there_, there inside the caverns, with his motley crew of kin, no doubt. Ah yes, as if it needed any more affirmation, a ghastly cackle soon melted out of the sickening glow of blue-gray and Vaan swallowed. There was no denying that voice, despite the fact he had only heard it on two occasions.

"Rinok! Stop yer loafin' and gimme a hand 'ere!" Ba'Gamnan's voice hissed through the corridors, and another crack was heard before a sudden shout of pain. Vaan felt his heart sink and he pressed closer against the crevice. That cry…

"Aye, he bruises so easily, Brother. Do let Gjuk 'ave a turn, eh?" another bangaa voice snarled gleefully.

"Haven't you…had your fun… _Ba'Gamnan_?" an all-too familiar voice, heavy and slurred, breathed. Vaan suddenly stirred, instantly registering the voice; his heart leaped.

He had found him – he had found Balthier… in the worst possible place and company. Quickly Vaan stood, stumbling slightly from his own eagerness, and tried to think of something – _anything_ – to do. Balthier was at the mercy of four bounty hunters; hows and whys were not considered – they couldn't be. There was no time. He was outnumbered by his bounty hunters and that was all Vaan needed to know.

A chorus of sadistic cackles weaved through the caverns. "He jests, the hume!" Rinok accused, and Vaan could only watch, helpless as he finally laid eyes on Balthier. The sight was nauseating, frightening, what little he could see; there was blood – his blood – too much, stained on the sands and on the Arcadian's face. His clothes were torn and soiled with dirt, his face in no better shape as it wore an expression of acrimony through countless bruises and smudges of blood. Vaan gasped as Ba'Gamnan wheeled his gear-spiked spear over to Balthier's face, who shied away despite his crumpled form on the sands.

"I've been goin' after ye fer far too long, _Balthier_. Don't think I won't cherish this moment as payback for all ye put me through!"

Vaan winced and visibly flinched as Ba'Gamnan's clawed foot came in blunt contact with Balthier's stomach, eliciting a blood-gurgled grunt from the sky pirate. Vaan trembled at the sight, rendered frozen to the spot.

He didn't even consider the words as they shot from his mouth in a cry of fury. "Leave him alone, you _bastards_!" Vaan screamed through the crevice, and he saw the shadows turn in his direction; he ducked under where the gap ended on his side and felt the embers of a Flare spell tingle at his fingertips.

"Hear that?" one voice asked, cautious. It was Bwagi, the youngest.

"Aye, Balthier's brought backup!" Rinok screeched gutterly.

"Bwagi! Rinok! Go after 'im, now! Find 'im an' kill 'im!" Ba'Gamnan barked hoarsely, and Vaan scrambled up and without further thought sprinted down the cavern corridor. The Flare spell was ready to strike at any moment, the heated passion of bloodlust churning within the Rabanastran as his legs carried him forward; he had to get to that area!

"Pretty hume, pretty hume, where've ye gone?"

"Aye, we won't hurt ye…"

The singsong voices of bangaa made Vaan's stomach churn and he heard the approaching, lagging footsteps of the creatures from around the upcoming corner. Without any prior thought, Vaan launched himself around and released the pent up spell, pleased to breathe in the scent of burning flesh and hear the sound of pained cries enveloped in flame. He winced and continued straight through the two bangaa, the heat of his own spell singing against his ears; they'd be down for the count after that one.

Two down, two to go.

"Don't think ye've gotten away, hume-child!" Rinok's voice, shaky and furious, echoed around Vaan and he barely had time to register the words before a bullet whizzed passed his ear. His breath hitched in his throat; underestimating the bangaa clan was foolish, but it did not stop Vaan from turning another corner and meeting the deathly gaze of an already awaiting Ba'Gamnan.

"Ah, I remember _this_ one," he seethed, obviously expecting his arrival, and Vaan dodged the outstretched hand. He fumbled with his grip before thrusting the heated tip his spear into the bangaa's armored solar plexus. Vaan's swam dizzily before him, but he managed to stumble around Ba'Gamnan, voice wheezing as he called Balthier's name. He was around there, so close, he knew it!

"Balthier! Balthier, where are you?!" Vaan shouted, eyes scanning hurriedly about the premise.

"Vaan…!" ah, there! His voice was weak and strangled, but Vaan did not hesitate; he followed the quiet call laden with that accent as he rushed over to the dazed and half-lidded sky pirate. He wasted no time in kneeling down, every now and then glancing behind him to check on Ba'Gamnan, who was still wheezing from the hit.

"C'mon, c'mon. Get up, _c'mon_." Vaan practically pleaded, knowing that any moment they would be outnumbered by the bounty hunters again. Blue eyes flickered as Vaan helped Balthier regain his balance to stand up, but soon the blond grimaced as he felt the wounds the sky pirate had to bear. Balthier's breath was raspy and quick and his own grip fumbled around Vaan, who dropped his spear carelessly to use his grip in supporting Balthier. He slung the sky pirate's arm over his shoulder and supported him around the waist.

"Rather glad to see _you_," the bruised man managed to croak, and Vaan did not reply. His other hand fumbled at his own sash, digging around for a spare smoke bomb he knew he had placed.

"Get the damned humes! Kill them both!" Ba'Gamnan screeched, recovered and siding with his siblings. Vaan grunted and tossed the smoke bomb into the distance, and on hitting the sand, it popped and released its added toxin.

"Prepared, I see," Balthier muttered and Vaan snorted.

"Wish I could say the same for you. C'mon, can you run?" the blond asked over the sound of snarling bangaas. Balthier leaned against Vaan, his feet stumbling on the sand.

"Yes," he replied quickly, and Vaan gripped the pirate's wrist, blindly guiding them both through the incessant darkness.

"I trust you know where you're going?" Balthier panted, tripping every now and then as he tried to keep up with Vaan's speed.

"Questions later," Vaan shouted, tugging on Balthier as he felt the man stagger. Left, left, right, straight… Yes, that's how he came _in_, but out was another story. Right, right, left…

"There!" Vaan gasped, pointing ahead as the sandsea's moonlight greeted them. Balthier's pace quickened with his comrade's as they heard the angry cries and shouts of Ba'Gamnan and his crew inch towards them. The constricting scent of musk and lichen seemed like a heavy burden lifted from the two young men as they staggered out of Zertinan Caverns. Vaan's chocobo stirred, on-edge and frightened at the sight of its bloodied master, but Vaan made no move to placate it; they had to go, now.

"The Strahl," Vaan shouted.

"What?" Balthier asked, spitting a clot of blood from his mouth as he m clumsily mounted the chocobo.

"_Where's the Strahl_?!" Vaan cried, voice shaking as he mounted the chocobo as well, though adjusted his position so he was the one in front. With trembling, blood-speckled hands, Vaan gripped the reins and squeezed the chocobo's ribs with an aggressive shout Balthier didn't know the blond was capable of. The creature came to life begrudgingly, fueled forward only by the uncharacteristic anger of its master. Vaan and Balthier lurched suddenly and soon the sky pirate's arm snaked around Vaan's waist for support.

"By Raithwall's…" Balthier started, his other gripping his side where a leaking gash lay. Vaan cursed – Raithwall's Tomb was a ways away, and the chocobo didn't seem opt to go full speed with doubled weight atop its back. Every now and then Vaan cast a gaze back, fearing each time that he would meet the pack of bangaa hot on their trail.

It was the fourth glance behind him that did it; he could hear their incessant, slurred babble and see the glow of their weapons (since when the heck did they glow, anyhow? He thought briefly).

"They're gaining," Balthier breathed heavily, on the brink of slipping into unconsciousness. His head leaned against Vaan's back every once in a while, his grip faltering around the boy's waist.

"Don't give out on me, Balthier. Please," Vaan practically ordered, mind reeling on possibilities to rid themselves of their pursuers. And Vaan was just about to put one of those plans into motion before everything around him gave way to nothing.

A flash of red was all both men saw, followed by the ear-piercing sound of a gunshot.


	5. Act I, Scene V

**A/n: I've had this on my computer since November 08, trying to figure out what else I can do with it. Can't think of anything. **

**Here you go. I know, I said I'd update it about another 6 months ago, but by now you should realize I am awful at keeping promises.**

* * *

**the curtain rises; act one, scene five.**

_Leo was waiting for the sun to set into the ocean. Then Cancer showed up, and they began to fight. Into the ocean they fell..._

_._

Recovering from the fall to the sands was as heavy and painful as being dragged from the very depths of hell itself. Vaan's insides churned – he wanted to wretch every last particle of his organs onto the ground if it meant that nauseating burden pounding through his body would go with it.

The Ogir-Yensa's sands grabbed Vaan's heartbeat; it was as if the ground was trembling beneath him. Sounds were deafening, swimming and mingling within his ears that were already ringing from the previous impact. There were voices; an unharmonious cacophony of snarls and cackles only getting closer with each passing moment.

Through the foggy haze of sand and sweat, Vaan stood none-too-gracefully. Something caught his eye, the crumpled form of golden-yellow feathers stained with red upon the sands in front of him. His chocobo lay motionless, its saddle and harness torn and tossed in the distance. There was a bullet lodged into the animal's left leg; no doubt it was dead, a delicate nerve struck by the bullet of their pursuers. Vaan's breath left him.

"Today would be a_ lovely_ time for you to start moving, lest you delay us both in this bloody dire situation and allow those overgrown reptiles to make any more a mess of us than we already are."

Vaan turned at the voice. In the curtained light of the moon, he faced the slumped form of Balthier in no better condition than what Vaan imagined himself to be. There was relief replacing what fear once permeated, the better half of Vaan's mind. Balthier was all right.

Vaan turned again, his feet carrying him forward several steps but his gaze remaining backwards. He would have given anything to have that chocobo alive. Motionless, fresh prey for the Yensa, and completely useless to him now.

"But the…" Vaan started, his eyes frantically darting from the chocobo to the approaching bangaa clan. Balthier staggered up, several paces from Vaan, and spat on the ground. Blood, sweat, spit, sand. All things Vaan was used to, all things that were tangible signs of their impending demise. Dryly, Vaan swallowed.

"The damned thing is dead, and to keep ourselves from ending up no different, we start running now." Balthier's voice roused Vaan from his stupor, and in a fashion far from gentle, the pirate grabbed Vaan's wrist with a dignified yank.

Vaan didn't need to be told twice after that. He gave a fleeting look behind him and felt his heartbeat send numbing tingles down to the tips of his fingers as he saw the closing distance of Ba'Gamnan and his crew.

They were gaining, and quickly.

Ringing throughout Vaan's ears was that sound, the sound he heard before tumbling to the sand. A gunshot, the same kind Vaan remembered hearing while running from Rinok and Gijuk in Zertinian. If that one shot killed the chocobo…well, the idea of what would happen if that bullet hit _him_ brought back that nausea in full force.

"Balthier, where're ye goin?"

"Aye, we've barely ev'n started!"

The overlapping voices of Rinok and Ba'Gamnan were barely heard over the sound of Balthier and Vaan's heavy panting and stumbling feet. Vaan couldn't bring himself to look back at those scales, that thick hide, those fangs, dripping, glinting. They were running from it all again, but this time there was no Basch, no Fran, no Larsa. There were no twists and turns of Henne, there was just an expanse of muted gold.

"A pirate of the sky can only run fer so long." Ba'Gamnan's voice was a melody of malice, the only thing propelling Vaan forward.

"Talkative as ever," Balthier managed to mutter through his breaths. Vaan's eyes darted to the side and he observed Balthier through his blurred vision. The pirate's gaze was fixated ahead, glaring into the thickening night of Ogir-Yensa as they passed oil refinery after oil refinery. Vaan needed answers – they were supposed to be running past Raithwall's, but…it would be impossible for either of them to make it there without stopping, Vaan realized. They weren't even to Nam-Yensa yet.

Bangaa were lizards; they were used to dry climates, and could clearly maintain physical strain longer than a hume in the desert. Vaan knew this, just as he knew that, indeed, he and Balthier were_ not_ lizards – it would be a notable feat if they could make it past the next two refineries.

Desperately, Vaan looked ahead at another segue stretching into a towering maze above the sandsea. He let nothing stop the impulse to voice his idea.

"We could lose them on the factory!" he yelled, his words tumbling out in clumsy pieces through his breaths.

Balthier glanced at Vaan and, after a pause that seemed like an eternity as they ran, he nodded once. "Up there, then! We'll split at the circle."

"We can't split." Vaan's voice cracked once through the desperation of that statement. "We can't." _I worked so hard, too hard to find you, we're not splitting apart. _

The ground gave way again, sand melting into an electric blue. A bullet whizzed past Vaan's ear and he stumbled once, twice. Balthier kept running, a glance not spared his way. He heard Ba'Gamnan's voice, far too close than he would have liked, and could only run faster.

"Rinok, you spineless fool! 'Tisn't that difficult t' aim 'n shoot at a pirate!"

Bangaa were slow creatures due to the bone structure of their legs, which acted more like hind limbs and made running an awkward, almost amusing-to-witness chore. Vaan remembered this and considered greatly their natural hindrances – however, their new weapons certainly compensated for that fact.

And speaking of those weapons…

_Where the hell did they get them?!_ Vaan's mind screamed. From what he recalled of his last encounter with Ba'Gamnan's crew, the only one with a weapon was Ba'Gamnan himself, and that was just an elongated, saw-like mechanism. But guns?! That just wasn't fair.

_We can't die. We can't die._

Vaan's mind chanted those three words stubbornly, as if it were his last lifeline. None of this was supposed to happen – he was supposed to have found Balthier and dragged the pirate back to the group,_ not_ have them end up running for their very lives by that inhumane group of bangaa, and continued their trek to the Empire.

Now, he wasn't even sure he'd see Penelo again.

"Now, Vaan!" Balthier suddenly shouted, grabbing the younger boy's wrist and yanking him with such force that Vaan felt his wrist pop, barely missing the bullet as Balthier turned suddenly and led him violently up the segue.

The grip around Vaan's wrist was firm but slick, from either blood or sweat or both; Vaan couldn't tell.

"Bangaa are not meant for guns, the filthy beings," Balthier spat as he and Vaan reached the top of the segue.

_I'd say they're doing a pretty good job with them…_ Vaan silently retorted, starting to hear the growls and footsteps of the Bangaa clan behind them.

Ahead, Vaan could scarcely see the split on the path that parted into a circular bridge above the raging sansdea. They rounded the circle, and Vaan groaned as Balthier cursed when they laid eyes on what was before them – or rather, what wasn't.

"Oh, bloody _hellfires,_" Balthier snarled. Vaan stopped abruptly in turn. He skidded on the rusted metal of the bridge, his heart sinking to his knees as he laid eyes on the dilapidated connecting bridge that sank into the sweeping currents of the sandsea.

"Trapped," Vaan breathed, as if it was some profound revelation. He shuddered and felt the sudden impulse to throw himself over the railings and let the sea swallow him. "We gotta find an—" Vaan started before the gut-wrenching sound of chain against metal cracked through the surroundings. They turned, both pirate and thief, to find Ba'Gamnan's leering gaze.

"Seems our humes 'ave found themselves trapped, big brother," Bwagi's deep voice rounded the side of the circle with Rinok, while Ba'Gamnan and Gijuk approached from the right. Vaan took a step back, casting a longing glance behind him at the hideous gap between the next refinery, before his eyes landed on Balthier – searching for a clue, something, _anything _that could get them out of this situation. But the pirate's eyes could only glare daggers through the approaching Bangaa clan.

Ba'Gamnan stopped suddenly several yards away from the hume pair, and his younger siblings did the same. Vaan swallowed, his eyes transfixed on Ba'Gamnan's chainsaw and Rinok's gun. _We are so dead,_ his mind echoed.

"Ye look so tired, Balthier. And yer friend, too," Gijuk squealed happily, his claws drumming together and making light clicking sounds over the sound of the sandsea.

"Per'aps ye should take a break now, and let us handle the rest, eh?" suggested Bwagi; the other three Bangaa hooted in laughter at this, the sound like a viera's nails on a chalkboard to Vaan's ears.

"Aye to that, we'll take good care o' ye – we even come bearin' gifts, _Balthier_," Ba'Gamnan smirked, gesturing with his scaly head to the gun in Rinok's hand. The female Bangaa cocked the gun once. Cold iron reflected in her irises.

"How very kind of you – however, we'll find ourselves passing on such _gifts_. I'm not one for child's toys, anyhow," Balthier spat back, and Vaan whipped his head to the side, incredulous at the man's incessant sarcasm. Ba'Gamnan didn't seem too pleased at this reply either, for he snarled and swung the Ba'gangsaw towards them both. Vaan felt a piece of him slip away as he gasped, visibly flinching along with Balthier.

"Ye seem t'ave the assumption I'm givin' ye a _choice_. These gifts were made especially for you--"

"Straight from Draklor Laborat'ries," finished Gijuk, licking his lips and revealing a dagger from a sheath on his side. It glowed brightly in the same fashion Rinok's gun did as he spun it expertly around his leathery fingers. Vaan blinked at Gijuk's words.

"Draklor?" he asked at the same time as Balthier, whose voice was far more hostile and suspicious than Vaan's. The blond looked at Balthier and his eyes widened a fraction as he saw the pirate's feral expression, narrowed eyes, bared teeth and all. Ba'Gamnan snarled at his younger brother, and this time poked the chainsaw in his direction. Blue embers flew as the eldest Bangaa spoke. "Keep yer filthy trap shut, y'blabberin' fool!"

"`Twas a secret?" Gijuk all but wailed as he shied away, and Vaan watched the exchange, blinking in the dry wind – this was his chance. Now that he finally had a moment to stop and catch his breath, he took notice of the replenished magick power churning inside of him from the running. Although not fully up to par, there was a sufficient amount renewed from _Flare_, and at the tip of the orphan's tongue lingered a spell.

While Ba'Gamnan was distracted in that split second with his brother, Vaan took a step forward, _Scourge_ crawling through his lips before he felt a familiarly slick grip tighten around his wrist. Vaan glanced up at Balthier, who wasted no time in shouting an incantation of his own.

"_Immobilize_," his cracked voice slipped through the wind, carrying over to the four Bangaa and surrounding them momentarily in a circle of white light. Through the sandsea, a hollow ringing sound echoed and Vaan watched, curious, as the bangaa clan suddenly halted all movement.

"_May the gods damn ye, Balthier_!" the words rolled harshly like a sandstorm from Ba'Gamnan's pierced lips and his bared fangs glimmered in the young light of the moon.

Balthier's warning grip around Vaan's wrist slackened, but only slightly, and Vaan noticed the exhausted relief that flooded Balthier's face before all too quickly it diminished with a more familiar, cocky expression. The tables were turned now.

"The Gods damned me well enough when tainting my profession with the likes of filthy lizards," he replied heavily, earning a cacophonic chorus of snarls from the wounded pride of the bounty hunters. Above the sound of the roaring sandsea, Vaan turned to Balthier.

"Let's get outta here already," he whispered, noting warily the hungry eyes of the bounty hunters glued to place.

"Not until I get some answers," Balthier lowly replied, releasing his grip from Vaan's wrist completely as he turned his attention to the bangaa. The brunet took a dignified step forward. "You've piqued my interest, _Ba'Gamnan_. Draklor, you say, gave you those?" the pirate inquired, motioning to the several weapons still held within their clawed grip.

Vaan allowed himself to relax to a certain extent, choosing to stay that one step behind Balthier. His eyes warily scanned the four frozen Bangaa, finding it slightly amusing and clever of Balthier to use Arcane magicks as a way of interrogation. _Draklor again…what's this about?_ Vaan pondered. True, he didn't know much of the matters of Draklor – only that it was a bad place that created manufacted nethicite. All this suspicion was raising his own curiosity, especially when Ba'Gamnan's lips contorted to a smirk and he spoke.

"Never 'eard o' Draklor, ye nosy hume. Remember wot curiosity killed."

A shadow Vaan did not know was hovering over them passed, and soon the moon's light peeled itself over the sandsea. Vaan winced; there was a sharp glare reflected in the blue of both Rinok and Bwagi's weapons, the same sort of ethereal shine held in the mines of Lhusu.

Beside him, Balthier stirred. Vaan remained quiet; Balthier always knew what to do, and although that made envy bubble up within Vaan, he allowed the pirate control.

Over the sound of waves splashing against the rust, against the shore made of the same substance, Vaan heard Balthier's footsteps nearing the Bangaa clan. His movements were heavy, labored, but his stride retained a semblance of surety. They had the upper hand now. It wasn't until Vaan began to relax that he realized how tense he had been.

Balthier's voice was directed only at Ba'Gamnan when he spoke.

"A fine excuse, that; one fit for children and fledglings to lies," he said, eyeing Ba'Gamnan. Yet Balthier did not approach the oldest headhunter, instead turning to face Bwagi, just as motionless and wearing a thoroughly malicious expression on his face

"Perhaps I should just take this, instead?" Balthier inquired, and effortlessly plucked the pulsing blade from Bwagi's grasp. Instinctively Vaan tensed; Arcane magicks lasted a shorter duration of time than others, and if Immobilize chose to wear soon, the Sandsea would be the grave of both sky pirate and desert thief.

"You'll put that back if ye know what's good fer ye," Bwagi's voice was almost tentative; he possessed not the ferocity of his eldest. Balthier merely smirked.

"A pirate never knows what's best – he takes what he pleases. What say you if I use this to my own advantage?"

There was a silence. The light of the moon muted; clouds passed again overhead. Carried by the dry desert wind was a shuddering gasp not from the lips of a hume as Balthier utilized the blade to his own choosing. Bwagi groaned, and Vaan strained to see the tail-end of a slice through leathery hide the shade of smoke.

Vaan suddenly felt dizzy at the sight – as quick as lightning, Balthier had turned and cut through the youngest headhunter's arm. Crimson mixed with rust, tricked down in rivulets towards Vaan's feet, beneath him, and into the Sandsea's crests. The stench of blood permeated his nostrils, the blood of a Bangaa.

The pirate's name choked through Ba'Gamnan's lips; had it not been for the spell, Ba'Gamnan's claws would have already soaked the refinery with Balthier's guts. "Don't touch 'im."

Balthier's reply came swiftly; he was expecting that reaction from Ba'Gamnan. "Oh, do believe me when I say that is the last thing on my list of what I'd incline myself to do." His eyes remained on the pulsing glow of the blade, eyes flicking then to Rinok. His next choice of words surprised Vaan, a profound thought spoken aloud.

"This," he hissed, and turned to Vaan, "is nethicite."


End file.
